


The Correspondent

by Brorifles (Kyloisadisneyprincess)



Series: The Correspondent Series [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Guilt, Hallucinations, Imagined Murder, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Season 3, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10113533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyloisadisneyprincess/pseuds/Brorifles
Summary: Agent Kallus and Garazeb Orrelios attempt to deal with the events of The Honorable Ones on their own. There is no release for the guilt and shame they both feel for caring about one another.  Kallus writes letters that he’ll never send. Zeb just tries not to think too much. Whatever they do, they just can’t seem to get the other out of their heads.(There will be a chapter for each episode that they have good screen time or development in)





	1. The Honorable Ones

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Goal Is Not To Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892910) by [White_Rainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow). 



The storm broke sometime during the night. It was easier to keep warm without the wind chill and the temperature rose as the sun climbed higher over the icy waste. His rifle was still strapped to his leg. Luckily, there had been no signs of wildlife. Their habitat must have been confined to the underground cave systems, the surface was too inhospitable. Zeb had left. Was the empire still searching for him? If they hadn’t detected the ghost then it wasn’t likely they were still in the system.

“I’m going to die here.” he says aloud.

 _“Your so quick to give up hope.”_ Kallus whips around looking for the source of Zeb’s voice. No one is there. That's not good.

He feels the all over warmth as his blood vessels dilate and knows that it's a trick. He is actually still freezing. He still needs to fight to keep warm. He is loathes standing on his broken leg, but the movement will get his heart rate up and buy him a few more minutes maybe. He must look like a fool limping around in circles clutching the meteor to his heart.

He sits back down. It would be dangerous to work up a sweat. Pulling his knees up to his chin he reminds himself. _Keep shivering, Stay awake._ If he rested at this point there would be no getting up again. But if he can stay focused he might last longer, He knows that victims of extreme cold rarely recognize when they are too far gone. Reality starts to shift. All judgement and concern go away. He feels a sense of pride that he still can decide his own grim prognosis. When he starts to think of good things, then… then…

_“...never know when to give up, remember?”_

“Zeb isn’t Here.” Kallus tells himself firmly even as he wonders _if I just close my eyes for a little bit maybe, maybe we can wake up again together._ He misses the furry creature even if only for the heat he radiated.

_“It’s warm and it throws light.”_

Kallus jerks awake, the meteorite has slipped from his grasp and rolled down hill. He belatedly realizes that he is completely laid out on his back in the snow. What’s worse, the wind is picking up again and there are clouds moving in to block out the sun.

He crawls on his elbows to retrieve the glowing rock. It’s difficult, especially with the weight and jagged edges of his rifle dragging against the underlying ice. He thinks about taking it off. He doesn’t need it anymore. His legs have been numb for hours. The meteor is more important.

The meteor will help him live, not kill like his weapon does.

 _“Impressive, but you shouldn’t have it.”_ Not fair, Zeb thought he stole it. The rifle was his to take but he has stolen more than enough that wasn’t. This realization has changed him. He feels that he has just watched some precious thing clatter to the floor and shatter. This is his life now, if he lived it would be on broken bones and glass.

He reaches the meteor and curls himself once again around it. He’s not so far from the pit that the pod made when they crashed. The stone would have rested there comfortably for an eternity but he needs it. The rifle on the other hand…

He unties the bandages Zeb used on him and pull the weapon up to rest across his knees.

_“YOU shouldn’t have it.”_

He feels that Zeb is right. The weapon, it belongs to a life he will never live again. Kallus looks between the rifle and the meteor. _The strong live, the weak perish._ Everything that has happened to him, that he has done, proves the theory wrong. With new resolve he flings the rifle down into the cavern as payment. He feels childish, as though he ought to make a wish.

\-----

He had better be dreaming. When it first started Zeb thought it was exhaustion. He’d spent to long out in the cold is all. Nothing to worry about. But then he had started thinking. Had he left Kallus to die on that frozen moon? Was that the reason Zeb kept seeing him out of the corner of his eye? He wanted to be above silly superstition but by the third day of being haunted he no longer could blame the cold.

The agent’s form would flash in and out of his vision. Sometimes his cheeks were wind chapped red above his sideburns, others his lips were a thin line of icy blue. When it comes down to it he doesn’t want to believe Kallus is dead but the uncertainty is killing him. It’s nothing to worry about,  Zeb is just stressed that’s what it is. Nothing a little time alone can't fix. If only alone meant actually alone. The first time he goes to stroke himself he looks down and sees Kallus’s little pink mouth wrapped around his dick. He isn’t far gone enough to just go with it. Disturbed that he might be getting off to the ghost of a dead man, Zeb pushes himself out of his bunk and starts his fitness regimen. The agent’s unexpected appearance has startled whatever enjoyment he would have had right out of him.

It happens again, Kallus is on his knees beneath him the next time Zeb goes to use the fresher. This needs to stop. Maybe if he knew kallus was ok, still out there, still his enemy, then things could go back to normal.

They don’t. As soon a s Specter 7, that’s what he’s calling IT now. Figured out that Zeb didn’t like being messed with while he was going about his routine, then the dreams had started. First just sensations breached his consciousness. Unrealistically soft hair in his hands, the weight of a warm body next to him. But the dreams grew. The smell and taste of him became present. Images of Kallus’s flushed body and the sounds of his moans were constant night time companions of his.

Despite all this, Zeb found that he slept better and felt safer with Specter seven by his side. All the while he curses himself for needing this.

\----

Kallus isn’t quite sure how to begin but he knows he needs this. The nightmares have become to vivid and the dreams are even worse. The thoughts he has each time he uncovers a new horror they demand his blood but that would be too easy, too cheap a way out. It used to work, to sweat out the night terrors like a fever but that was before he knew. Back then pushing himself to exercise until he was beyond aching would washed away some of the apprehension. But only what was on the surface of his skin. He never dove deeper. It had been enough to let him sleep.

Now, it isn't so. He had never been a man of conscience. Discipline, formula got him to where he needed to be. Then why did this feel so wrong? his conscience floated like some dislocated bone inside him, Occasionally it would bump against this and that never really finding it’s place. It was a disorderly and clumsy thing and right now it stung. He felt it in his chest and prickling at the back of his eyes, rolling in his gut each time an order came he knew he ought to refuse. Ripping it out might be his best option but pacifying it was his only choice.

He still can’t start. There is no format no guidelines for this. The thoughts, he needs them out he needs more space he needs to be able to swallow the lump in his throat when it threatens to choke him. He keeps seeing Zeb. It might be easier to speak to someone but that would mean a death sentence. He hasn’t told hasn’t revealed how weak he feels to anyone not since...Zeb.

 _Zeb,_ Kallus starts to type it’s too informal has a familiarity he doesn’t deserve, yet it was willfully given. He can’t not yet he doesn’t feel strong enough. _Captain Orrelios,_ he tries some how that’s even worse. It brings to mind his own title how he has paid for it with stolen blood.

 _Garazeb,_ He decides.

_I would like to start by expressing my most sincere humility, shame, and loathing towards myself and my actions up until this point. In the case that you ever find these, which I hope you don’t, I have no intention to send you these messages and burden you further. But in case you do find them, I would like for you to know that I still think of the moon and your kindness._

__Not kindness, restraint. A respect for life that was foreign to the imperial way.

_I can’t say I understood your generosity until I was on the receiving end of it, I didn’t deserve it and I will not be generous with myself now. I hope you know about the intelligence I have been sending to your Rebel cell. At present I believe it is the best thing I can do to help. It by no means makes up for the harm that I have done in the name of the empire but I hope it is a worth at least as much as the catharsis my death on the moon would have given you._

Here Kallus stops, the words are impersonal but he means them. He feels like he is trying to squeeze himself through a pinhole. There is too much unsaid and still so much pressure building inside his skull, ready to burst. He gripped at his hair and resists the urge to pull harshly as this would free his pores up to expel some of the thoughts that tear at him. He needs to continue. If simple is all he can do then he’ll put it simply.

_It isn’t enough. It never will be._

Such is every fear, in debt, and death, in famine, in war, in love, in peace, in tears, in joy, and everything inbetween. Never enough, there always is and isn’t more. He sees and feels Zeb when he is alone, green eyes staring at him with a mix of judgment and concern.

_But I will likely still die in some other horrendous and untimely fashion, should you take that fact as a small consolation no one would judge you._

As they would judge Kallus if he took pleasure in such an escape. He hopes Zeb will kill him if only for the rightness of it, the justice which he now lives in spite of. Why had he never questioned the order of things before, when it counted, when it had meant the deaths of innocents and not just his own continually plagued existence?! He must continue.

_On the moon you told me to “chase the answers”. It should come as no surprise that I didn’t like what I found. In the light of what I now know your actions towards me make even less sense. Why did you spare me? I don’t entirely believe that you just wanted a fair fight._

Fair is a concept that doesn’t exist, not in the Empire’s galaxy.

_But maybe I am just looking for sympathy where it doesn’t exist. I’d let you win if we meet again, but I’m sure you’d hate me even more for that. Kriff, I almost killed you the first time we met. I’m grateful for my life but why?_

_Not only my life but also the kindness you spared me. You bound my leg, gave me the meteor, carried me, picked me up, and let me choose to stay._

The cold had been unbearable, he was beyond feeling it by the time he was rescued. He had felt burned all over and had only kept the meteor close because of what it represented. Zeb, the moon, The experience that did not belong in his life. It was like some lofty thing had decided to break into his atmosphere and streak the sky with light. Day and night had become blurred, and all the choices of his life he found to be sitting squarely in the wrong. The damned meteor was the only thing that saved him even it he owes to Zeb.

_At first it seemed that I had made the wrong decision. I watched the greeting your crew gave you, naive of me to expect the same upon my return here._

_I feel so cold._ There is no other word for it. Despair may come close, but despair can be expressed, screamed, extricated. The cold simply is. And without something added, it persists.

_Why am I telling you this? You have no reason to care about me. We were just surviving. You were just interested in having a hostage, to use to protect yourself if the empire came or to bring back to your captain for questioning._

_But you didn’t._

_No matter how I chase this answer I can’t seem to catch up. But that is not unusual. I am always one step behind you_.

_Yours now I suppose,_

 - _ _K__

 

The sentiment is presumptuous but he wants it to be true.


	2. The Antilles Extraction

Ezra, Sabine and Kanan are off to rescue pilots, imperial cadet pilots to be specific. Yeah they want out, but Zeb isn’t certain he wants help from any kind of imp. It’s just that they need pilots. They aren’t showing any kind of mercy to the bucketheads, they’ll be put to work when they get here, zeb tries to convince himself. Ever since being stranded on the moon with Kallus Zeb hasn’t been able to decide if he made the right decision, Showing mercy, giving up the info Kallus could have told them, and the pleasure it would have been to break him. 

But in the moment it had felt wrong and he’s not one to go against his gut, most of the time, lately though his mind has wandering, been getting the better of him. The Kallus-dreams have stopped but only after they had reached an extreme. Extreme enough that Hera had less than gently suggested insomnia pills. They worked and he took them dutifully, he didn’t want to go through that ever again.   

The thought of it makes his stomach coil. The constant hassle of having Kallus’s specter haunting his dreams had become too much over time. And the guilt he felt for showing the agent mercy grew exponentially with each use of  Kallus’s image as a means to his own pleasure.  The transport, lasan, and all of the rebel forces have never been shown mercy. So why should he give what he won't get? His crew, his family and friends could be wiped out at any minute and the Empire would feel no remorse. Zeb knows he has every right to feel angry and to hope Kallus has met a painful end.

He had taken those thoughts to far during one of their imagined nightly trysts. It had started out as it always did, but then he grew more forceful. Kallus had made no move to resist. Zeb had woken in a shredded bunk mattress, thankfully not streaked with blood as he had imagined. Many worried faces hovered above him. 

He had thought...he knows now he’s not always better than their enemies. He knows the need to deal out death is in him, it always has been. It’s a balancing act that will never end. His bed isn’t the same afterwards and it's not just because it’s been roughly patched together. There is a correlation between it and him now. It looks just as he feels; unmade. 

\----

Pryce, though bed bound after the incident with Sabine Wren was livid. The rebel escape was Kallus’s fault according to her report. But the cadets that he had delivered to their cell would have stayed there if Sabine hadn’t escaped. So what if he had left the door unlocked and directed the escapees onto the best path? No one knew about that. It had all been covered by Pryce’s spectacular blunder and her subsequent and unconvincing protests that the failure was simply not her fault.

Kallus plops down onto his bunk with a sort of giddy satisfaction. First hands on fulcrum mission, he had done it and lived. He hadn’t expected that, shot down by his new allies or executed for treason had always seemed a more likely summary for his short stint at being a rebel. Was he actually... good at this? He hadn’t expected time to reflect on his actions after the fact. He thought it would be enough to know that this time the course he had chosen was right. 

With some sort of blind devotion he rises and goes to his desk, opening a new encrypted file, he pauses. He shouldn’t go immediately to this when he needs clarification. There are no answers incoming. There should be a way to make this feel less like a prayer. 

  
  


_ Garazeb, _

_ How are your new rebel pilots? There would have been one more but Governor Pryce is ruthless. I remember, being like her nothing had mattered beyond the chase and the kill. I am lucky her thirst for blood blinds her to my treachery. My only wish I could have acted to prevent her from killing the third cadet, Rake was his name . But by the time I surmised her intention it was too late. I failed. I will be more observant in the future. _

Before, when he failed it meant that the ghost crew had slipped away but was out there still for him to track down and bring to justice another day. This time, an entire life had slipped by him. He wonders if there is justice in the realm of the dead there certainly is none for the living. He won’t make such a mistake again. In reality, Sabine had saved the day, not him.

_ Sabine Wren noted my history failures during our brief meeting while she was a prisoner. She told me that it looked like the Empire had finally found someone who could do my job. I’d be lying if I said that hadn't stung, less so from pride (How dare she compare me to Pryce), more so from knowing that had I not been replaced by Pryce I would have been in a better position to protect her for you. Not that she needed any protecting. Sabine was very successful in handing Pryce her own ass. It will take several days in the infirmary for the Governor to recover. _

_ I wasn’t sure I would make it when I cornered Sabine and the cadets to give them their way out. But I’ve been at the end of a rebel gun before, and am grateful that, no matter how many times I’ve given you the chance, no one seems to want to follow through and end me. I have too much to make up for to go now. _

_ Those cadets that defected are brave, I know it. I wish I had questioned the Empire sooner. It’s so much easier to keep your head down, to not think, to ignore the problems. I know I gave Sabine a message for you, truthfully it was more an attempt to get her to trust me. We will never be ‘even.’ I just wanted her to know that you had done something for me, to me. Your name connotes only the best and today it placed me far enough above suspicion to allow me to keep my life.  _

 

_ Garazeb,  thank you. _

 

_ Doubly Yours, _

__ -K _ _

 

 

Zeb was relieved when Ezra, Sabine and Kannan returned (shut it chopper they could have left you.) They were long overdue. With them are two young pilots, Wedge and Hobby. Why hadn’t he realized that they were kids?! Roughly the same age as Sabine just a bit older that Ezra. There’s a blonde one, a rare color for humans. Kriff, how could, why would…  _ “I watched him pick off my squad one by one.” _ Kallus’s voice comes back to him. Why would someone murder a bunch of little Ezras?! Ok not the best example but there is a wrongness to the thought of anything young and vulnerable being snuffed out.

_ “Part of Saw Guera’s unit”  _ Guera was still a part of the rebellion, notably extreme, but still on their side in this war. He feels his galaxy being upended by the fact that there are people in the empire that are not pure evil and that there are people in the rebellion that are not truly good. Ashla, even he had left Ezra behind in the beginning (out of fear), had almost made the kid fall to his death soon after. Karabast, he’s got to make better choices. 

The cadets head off with ezra to get new uniforms and bunk assignments, the young jedi is clearly excited at the prospect of new friends. Sabine lingers behind as the rest of the crew wanders off to get a meal. Zeb thinks he’s going to have a well deserved nap. 

“Zeb,” Sabine starts as he begins to head off. “ I ran into Agent Kallus while I was at Star Strike.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Ya, did you kick his ass for me?” he calls back with as much feigned jovality as he can muster. 

“Not exactly.” her voice is a low whisper.

Zeb’s ears prick up  _ Kallus is alive _ . He doesn't want to tell her about him, and thankfully she doesn't ask. He just laid Specter 7 to rest and doesn’t want to risk calling him back now.  Zeb makes his way back to his bunk and does get the nap he wanted. With Ezra off entertaining his new pals the ghost is a silent paradise. Zeb wakes to the sound of Hera and Kanan exchanging endearments quietly. There is a warm weight in his arms.He’s almost afraid to look down specter 7’s hair is out of order and though Zeb can only peek at his face, he can tell the skin there is bruised and scarred , Kallus murmurs into his chest  _ Garazeb, Thank you.  _

His gut can’t tell him if this is right or wrong.


	3. An Inside Man

The sun was just high enough in Atolons sky to turn it pale  blue when the transmission came in. Waking in the early morning without the sound of Ezra tossing in the bunk above his was disconcerting. Zeb was relieved he would not have to spend the rest of the day waiting for news of him and kanan.

Hera looked as though she had passed the morning in a similar fashion. Going on about her life but not really living. It is instinctual to want loved ones close; to touch and be assured of their reality and in turn become certain of your own, not so much to give each other purpose, more to ensure that each body had an atmosphere to exist in; shared thoughts and breath like an embrace. The ghost felt empty without the two jedi and although there was quiet, there was less peace without them.

 “I think I almost got the data decrypted” Sabine says slowly as she makes her final adjustments.

Zeb crosses his arms and regards the astromech unit that is providing the display. The droid is separate from the rebellions main transmission board just in case of the worst case.

“Woah” sabine gasps as she takes the first glance at the read out.

 “I’ve never seen a ship like that before” Hera leans in. “Sabine talk to me.”

 “It looks like some kind of tie interceptor” sabine replies “ but this one has shields” she winces as she looks up.

 “But tie fighters never had shields before” Hera interjects in disbelief. This is bad.

 “Maybe that’s why it’s so secret” Zeb speaks up. It won't do to ignore this new info just to wish that it isn't true. But Hera’s never been an idiot.

 “If they’re actually building these in numbers our pilots won't stand a chance.” She says.

 “And neither will the rebellion.” Kannan finishes the bigger picture for her.

“How did you get past thrawn with these plans?” focus on the good Hera thinks. "Someone is losing more than their job for that”  It’s too early to cancel the rebellion because of a forecast of shielded fighters. They took their chance today and it was a good  one.

 “I guess we can thank Agent Kallus he knew fulcrums secret code phrase.” Kannan answers.  Hera looks as though someone has slapped her between the eyes. Sabine is quicker to voice her confusion, a little to quick.

“Wait wait, Kallus is fulcrum?! How does that even make sense?!”

Zeb’s stomach drops from under him.

“Karabast” He rubs the back of his neck. This is a vulnerable topic for him. “I must have recruited him! Ya know, accidently.”  He holds up both hands and smiles. At least only half of his family is here to question him in person.

“You what?!” Ezra yells.

“We didn’t kill each other so I guess we’re friends now.” Zeb adds. See perfect sense. But Hera’s not buying it.

“Still, we’ll use caution with our new friend until we know what game he’s playing”

The holo transmission ends and now he’s alone and at the mercy of the ghost crew’s terrifying ladies.

“Do you have something you want to share with us Zeb?” Hera asks. Her voice is soft and even. She trusts him he knows it. Now he needs to do his best not to lose that trust.

“I want to go first.” Sabine speaks up. She is still sitting hunched over the command table. “ When I was at Star-strike Kallus cornered Hobby, Wedge and I. He gave us our way out.” Sabine turns around to look at Zeb. “and he told me to give you a message.”

“Let’s hear it then” Zeb steels himself. He doesn’t need to feel any more responsibility or guilt over Kallus.

“He said ‘Tell Garazeb Orrelios: we’re even’’’ Sabine watches Zeb’s brows go up in shock first only to part ways in confusion before coming together in anger. “ I know, not the smartest thing  he’s ever said,” Sabine adds “ but grant I had him at the end of a blaster.”

He huffs, “Why didn’t you shoot.” Zeb grumbles and palms his face before turning to walk away. He goes a short distance and comes back arms crossed. He needs to just tell them but ashla damn that son of a bantha, How dare he! Had the moon meant so little when it had cost Zeb so much?! He had spent months after that first wondering if Kallus had even survived, if it would have been better to take him captive. And then the dreams, Ashla he hated every inch of Kallus but he felt like he knew every inch of Kallus. Damn him. Damn them both.

Zeb needs to begin.

“When I was stranded on that moon over Geonosis I wasn’t alone.” He breathes deeply, and digs his toes into the ground to keep himself planted there. “Kallus was in the pod with me and we fought and kinda broke the guidance system. That bit made it hard to find me, sorry.” Zeb pauses and looks up at Hera. Her arms are crossed. The more apologies he can get into this the better. “So when we crashed Kallus was injured, broke his leg I think, and then there were these monsters and we had to climb out of the cave and then he coulda shot me but he didn’t and also it was really cold and then you rescued me.”

“So you didn’t kill each other.” Sabine gestures towards one side before dramatically swinging both hands to the other side in imitation of the way Zeb punctuated his run on sentence of a story. “ So you’re friends now.”

“I guess” he can’t force himself to say it without resentment.

“Well today has been the day for confessions,” Hera fixes him with a look “I have to remind you both that you shouldn’t be keeping any intelligence to yourselves. It’s an offense to lie on your reports.”

“Also! I made Wedge and Hobby leave Kallus out of their statements.” Sabine interjects.

“That being said, I hope we all sleep better tonight.”

_She knows_ . Zeb thinks. _Somehow, she karking knows._

_\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Kallus can’t sleep. _Thrawn knows._ The phrase keeps going off in his head like an alert siren. He rolls over grabs his data pad and starts to punch in the letters.

_Garazeb,_

Kallus pauses. He can’t. He can’t be having second thoughts now. Not with the death toll, not after eating so many cleverly worded lies whole.

_I am afraid._  He enters slams the pad down and rolls back over.

_So was Sumar and every other factory worker I helped cart away today._ He thinks. The factory is in shambles. Thrawn wants the data on his other projects moved and he blames Pryce. Pryce was a joy to work with today as well. She doesn’t handle PR crisis well. He doesn’t even want to know what she said to the people who came to inquire about their missing family members, probably something hopelessly righteous or equally threatening.

He can’t stop thinking about Sumar. It’s not as though this is the first time he has seen a body completely obliterated into ash. It’s just, he’s never thought of it before, how the empire has been using the outrage of ordinary people to justify death. In Sumar’s case even the way he died was dictated by a system of power he had no control over. Kallus is also amazed at how much damage one rogue ended up doing to such a large system, amazed how many others were willing to risk their lives to sabotage a few vehicles.

Kallus is still trying to process, He remembers what he said earlier and cracks a smile at the irony “A new fighter? Difficult to see how one small ship will change much.”

“Agent,” Thawn’s haunting voice comes back to him. “Victory and defeat are often determined by the smallest detail.”   It was meant to be a lecture. Now it feels like a reason to carry on.

_Garazeb,_

_I’m afraid but not afraid enough to stop._

 Kallus feels guilty that he even thought about quitting and risking the lives of so many others just to save his own skin. He needs to re-commit but i’ss not as though he can make a public statement  or brand the starbird into his flesh. Hell he’s not sure he’s even worthy of that. Actualy, he’s sure he’s not. Kallus thinks for a moment as he fiddles his fingers over the keypad. He has the fulcrum symbol, the holo of it shows every time he transmits to the rebels. He wonders where it comes from, why it was chosen.  He knows what he want’s to do. It’s tacky but also not too incriminating.

_Garazeb,_

_I’m afraid but not afraid enough to stop._

_There’s so much I can still do._

<>_/\\_<>

<>⎺\/⎺<>

 -   _ _K__

 He tilts his head looking at his knock off fondly. Unfortunately, there’s no way to orient the symbol right. But he might be dead in the morning so it’ll do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr @brorifles!
> 
> While I was away recovering from a concussion I started drawing #A Zeb A Day


	4. Warhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeb and Kallus try to make sense of the events of "Warhead."

Kallus slams the lock on the door of his quarters. He shouldn’t have done it. He could have let the rebels find out about the successful explosion some other way. He hangs his head. It wasn’t even entirely a success.

94,that’s how many planets are left to check,  Thrawn had openly gloated about it. Trying to trick him into sending another warning no doubt. Kallus supposes it was worth the shot, he had just opened a transmission in order to offer his congratulations of all things. He’s getting sloppy, He starts to wonder if he was ever any good at this.

But the explosion it was the first… The first real thing he had a hand in. Well,  the first blow he had seen with his own eyes. It was dazzling and for a moment on the bridge in plain view of his subordinates he had let himself smile. He felt reassured that there were others out there, that he was on someone’s side.

And that would be the end of thrawn's kriffing creepy infiltrator droids. He swears they were made in their maker's image red eyes, blue paint and all. Kallus wonders if that had been an intentional choice on Thrawn’s part. And whether the choice was made out of arrogance,an attempt at psychological warfare or some mix of both.  He wonders if Thrawn ever becomes lonely, being the only Chiss in the Empire, the only non-human of rank in fact.

It’s rare these days that Kallus doesn't find himself wallowing in a bog of mixed emotions. He’s been asking questions about things he’s never cared about before. He feels strangely othered even though there are no apparent differences between himself and his coworkers. He knows it’s not the same thing, that being a fulcrum agent is something he has chosen for himself. But the choice has made him able to empathize. The feeling is strange and new. Kallus sits down and pulls out what he needs to write.

Does Thrawn deserve that empathy just as much as any civilian the empire has singled out? Is this some type of sliding scale? Who decides? He isn’t sure but he can hope some one else has the answers. But wait, isn’t that what got him into this mess in the first place, Letting some vague ethical theory laid out by a distant dictator decide how he should live his life? _I only have what I can do._ He thinks. _And if it’s not enough then it’s up to me to figure out what else._

 

_Garazeb,_

_I’ve already contacted your rebel cell to convey my congratulations._

Kallus wishes he could keep this light but can’t help but wonder if the information he had been sharing with the rebels had only left them worse off.

_I was most impressed at how you chose to deal with the infiltrator droid, but it’s like me to forget just how capable your team is._

He has to hold onto that. The Ghost crew will do well with or without him, even if they are in more danger now than ever.

_I have reason to believe that my ... treachery, betrayal, has been discovered. It is likely that I will never see you again._

Had Kallus wanted to see them? Yes. The warm welcome that Zeb received after being rescued. A place to belong, a reason to live. How could he have been so naive to think that he would make it out of this alive? Kallus lets his thoughts spin out of control. How could he have thought he could ever deserve what Zeb had? Even if the rebels knew, they’d never take him in.

 _But they would_. He knows they would and that gives him hope.  

_Garazeb,_

_I’ve already contacted your rebel cell to convey my congratulations.I was most impressed at how you chose to deal with the infiltrator droid, but it’s like me to forget just how capable your team is._

_I have reason to believe that my ...  betrayal, has been discovered. It is likely that I will never see you again. You...I..._

Kallus can’t finish. He’s writing his last words. He can’t let himself feel that it's all over if he is going to see this through. He pulls away from the screen. Maybe his last words will be spoken out loud.

Kallus realizes he will have to get up in the morning and answer to the people that will kill him.  Kriff, he won’t be bored.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Contrary to his prediction Zeb hadn’t been bored to death while the rest of the crew was away and now he had more to think about than he desired.

_“I don’t know how you pulled it off but you have my congratulations fulcrum out.”_

Zeb lies awake and wonders, _was Kallus impressed?_ Zeb rolls over and tries to suppress the feeling of pride. He doesn’t want Kallus's approval, No, it’s just nice to be able to show that bossy prick that the rebellion knows what it's doing. Zeb knows what he’s doing. But still there was that undertone of disbelief... It reminded him of AP-5 and his insesent critique of Zeb’s mental prowess.

Sure, AP-5 had eventually relented. But that didn’t stop Zeb from continuing to be suspicious. How many others thought of him as just a ‘Grunt’ ?

_“A lot has happened today not sure I can deal with you and me starting to get along on top of everything else.”_

Kriff, if he had thought having AP-5’s approval was a bow to his self esteem, then being glad that kallus was impressed with him would be his death sentence. Zeb knows he has a strong need to be recognized, it was what had gotten him to his position as Captain of the honor guard on lasan. But t was also what made him make the mistake of keeping the infiltrator droid.

 _“Species: Lasat, Designation: Military.”_ The mechanical voice of the infiltrator comes back to him. Why had he take the statement of those simple facts as a compliment? Was he that desperate?  Sure it didn’t help to have only AP-5 and Chopper as company at the time but why, Why had he been so quick to count a strange droid as his new friend?

He rolls over again, this time he fails at going easy on his new bruises. He had taken a beating for his misjudgment. Isn’t that enough? He needs to be able to move on.

 _Yes, I made a mistake. But everything turned out alright. And I do have friends who appreciate me, they’re just not that great._ Zeb thinks. He misses hanging out with Kanan and Ezra. Everything is changing, they’re not on their own anymore they’ve got less time to goof off, and an example to set. And if he can admit it, Zeb hasn’t been himself since the moon.

 _“We didn’t kill each other, so I guess we’re friends now.”_ Kriff that's the dumbest thing he’s ever said. The possibility of it. The chance that he might actually see Kallus again coupled with the dreams. Some part of him wants the Agent. A larger part of him wants the Agent to die. To think of Kallus as just a friend doesn’t seem right, the emotion isn’t strong enough, and yet he can’t just pick one, Love or Hate.

 _I’ll just have to see how everything plays out,_ Zeb muses. _In a different galaxy maybe…_

He swallows. It’s just his luck a different galaxy is exactly what the rebellion is trying to create.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're on tumblr! @brorifles


	5. Through Imperial Eyes

The shuttle lands and Kanan, Ezra, Rex and the droids disembark. Zeb hovers at the edge of the landing pad, waiting. He’s rehearsed this a  half dozen scenarios in his head over the past half hour. Smug Kallus? _Punch him._  Injured Kallus? He might be able to get away with a joke depending on severity. Apologetic Kallus? _Blow it off,_ There’s no way he could respond with sincerity. Crying Kallus? _Abort! Abort!_  Stoic Kallus? Well two could pretend at that. Dreamy eyed and blushing Kallus? _Well Kriff..._

His friends approach him as he comes to the realization. _Kallus isn’t with them._

“He didn’t want to leave, Big guy.” Kanan confirms, placing a hand on Zeb’s arm.

“Didn’t realize that I’d met him before, He’s a looker isn’t he.” Rex adds. “Smart too, framed another officer.” Rex claps Zeb on the back. “ I have a feeling we’ll be seeing him again.”

“I…well.” Zeb doesn’t know how to properly mask his reaction. He’s not exactly sad that Kallus chose to stay away, He’s NOT disappointed. If anything he feels sick to his stomach. He had been so ready to face this thing, so ready to be able to chalk it up to his imagination. But Zeb had been denied that satisfaction.  Denied the tool with which he would be able to kill his lingering hope.

“Yeah well Agent stick up his ass Kallus can have the Empire!” Ezra rants. “ After all we did he decides ‘ Oh, I can do more good here.’” Ezra murmurs further profanity under his breath. “He didn’t even think I was there to get him out!”

“It’s a big change for him, Ezra. He still doesn’t think like us.”

“I’m not sure he’s changed at all.”

Ezra’s words don’t hold much conviction but never the less a wave of uncertainty crossed Zeb’s mind. If Kallus wasn’t really on their side it would be all his fault. Zeb had vouched for the man. Could this all have been a mistake?

Chopper beeps petulantly at Ezra’s accusation.

“Yes, and If Agent Kallus were a triple Agent the Empire would be here by now.” Ap5 interjects.

So it’s a done deal then. Zeb has won his own nemesis over to their cause and Kallus is committed, even at the cost of his own life. _It would be fitting if he finally were to die helping us._ Zeb thinks. But he can’t bring himself to want that, not fully. He still needs some type of closure now that he knows he won’t get it by blasting Kallus off the face of the galaxy with his bow-rifle.

“Hmph,” Ezra relents. “Fine then, but I don’t have to like him. He’s so bossy! And his voice is annoying when he’s stressed.”

Zeb can’t suppress the chuckle. It’s true, all of it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _It’s not true, none of it._ Kallus thinks as he returns to his bunk.

 _Lyste is not the traitor._ What’s worse is that upon interrogation Lyste will have nothing of value to exchange for his life. Kallus sits up. He thinks he’s done the right thing as far as the end goal is concerned. He’s just done it in such an Imperial way.

_What do I have in common with the rebels after all?_

It had been disconcerting to see Colonel Yularen again. Kallus feels that his heroes have all become empty to him. Their faces voids built of deeds that were done on the basis of shallow reaching principle. Though he knows that he has escaped them and their lies, he at any moment  could again be swallowed up. No one would know. He would be just another ‘honorable’ name upholding the brutality of the Empire.

Bridger especially doubted him. Kallus doubted himself and after Lyste’s interrogation was over, there was no way Yularen would be able to report that they had caught the traitor. Kallus had only bought himself time. But in doing so had drawn the cord tighter around his own neck.  He wouldn’t be privy to the intelligence that the rebels needed any more.

It’s time to get to work.

  
  


_Garazeb,_

_I’ll be brief this time. Your friend Ezra Bridger gave me an idea on how I could expand my ability to collect vital information. While he was captured he hid in the ceiling, as he often does, in order to surprise me when I returned. (On a side note: How do you put up with him?)_

_I am constructing a mouse droid capable of navigating the ventilation system and modifying it to power a listening device. I should have actual news for you soon._

 - _ _K__

 

Sufficiently motivated Kallus pulls out the parts and tools he has meticulously collected.  He knows it’s silly to think of an unsent message as his accountability to finish the task.As much as he craves the support Kallus doesn’t want to acknowledge that the ghost crew, they wanted to rescue him! It feels too real, he’ll blow it for certain.

He needs to stay here. There’s still a chance that he can protect Z... them.

He can’t protect everyone.

Lyste’s plea comes back to him.

_Tell them Kallus! Tell them!_

He swallows back a grimace, if he would have gone with Bridger would Lyste have been cleared? The Lieutenant hadn’t known he was corroborating with the enemy. Kallus knows he owes Lyst more than an apologie.

_Lyste,_

_My first order of business when this war is over will be to find out if you are alive and get you out._   

He’s been making a lot of “ if then” promises lately, most of them contingent on his ability to continue spying. It hits him. He has never decided on a future where he survives before.  And Lyste did this?

Maybe that’s the easier reality to live with. Kallus must survive because there is still the possibility of making things right for Lyste not because of the mistaken benevolence of his former enemies and certainly not because Garazeb Orrelios promised him a rematch.

There’s no way he can pay back all the wrongs he has done but if he has dug his own grave there is no reason he shouldn’t  bury himself trying to get back out.


	6. Zero Hour Part 1

The mouse droid worked. Kallus rushes to a speeder, the rebel fleet can’t attack Lothal,

not now that Thrawn knows it’s just too dangerous. Bridger’s tower looms before him and lothal’s moons hang low and bright in the sky. Usually he wouldn't attempt coming here until they set, leaving lothal’s grasslands with a few hours of precious darkness.

He makes it to the top unseen, keys the pad on the door open and glances around before stepping inside. The last time he had come here he’d startled the most oddly colored feral Loth-cat, all white with blue eyes. It hadn’t much liked the look of Kallus either. Inside is eerie but vacant enough. The blank eyes of stolen storm trooper helmets in varying states of dismantlement stare back at him. Kallus thinks they look judgmental. He sits down and turns on the transmitter.

“This is fulcrum with an urgent message. Thrawn knows about…” Kallus pauses as the fulcrum symbol flickers grows red and the steady transmission warbles like tension releasing from a wire cable. His eyes go wide. _What has gone wrong?_

“By the light of lothal’s moons,” a voice taunts. A tall man in a white uniform stands in the door blocking out what little is left of the light.

_Thrawn._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Dodanna’s fleet was scheduled to arrive within the rotation. Chopper base had never seen a busier day. Smaller ships and fighters with hyperdrives had begun trickling in this morning to make fueling, and feeding the ships and pilots more manageable. The last batch had arrived a half hour ago and had been cleared by security. Now all that left for Zeb to do is see that the last few scans of the Ghost are done. Then he can make sure that he’s ready for this himself.

Ezra is excited. And rightly so. Zeb imagines that there could be no battle so thrilling as the first one of many to take back your home. But, he’ll probably never know. The Ghost’s systems look all clear so Zeb decides he should probably get some rest

That was a mistake. How could he think that he would sleep dreamlessly? They had recently failed to retrieve Kallus.  And now Zeb was going to go into a battle where they might meet again, one where they had an equal chance of death, and an even greater chance that they would die by each other's hands.

Zeb didn’t want to want this but it was the easiest way out. He rolls over discontented and punches his bunk a few times before settling in.

When he wakes it feels like a punch to the gut. He’s winded, one of his legs aches, and his arms feel as though they’ve been stretched too far. Kallus sits across from him on the bunk hands in his lap and legs uncharacteristically crisscrossed.

 _“Thrawn says that I have the heart of a rebel.”_ He quips tilting his head and smiling coyly. It’s then that Zeb realizes that Kallus’s soft hair has fallen out of place hiding a blackened eye and bruised forehead.  

 _“Zeb! Zeb… Wake up!”_ Ezra shakes him awake. Somehow he’s ended up on the floor cradling his bo-rifle. “Zeb, It’s Kallus. He sent a warning. We’re under attack!”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zeb plays the transmission over and over again in his head.

 

 _“This is Fulcrum with an urgent message. Thrawn knows about…”_ and then nothing. That’s it, Kallus is gone and the only evidence is a soundbite of static. The voice was so clearly Kallus’s as if he hadn’t had time to scramble it properly, or maybe the the stress had made him forget to curb his inflection.

 _It’s not my Fault,_ Zeb thinks. And he’s right. But he still feels regret for the moments he wished for Kallus to meet an untimely fate. Now’s not the time to think of this. He adjusts the settings in the Ghosts top gunner position and flicks on the comm.

“Still glad you got mixed up in this rebellion Rex?” He asks a little too eager to sound cheery. He doesn’t hope for a real answer and Rex knows better than to give one. It’s just another good day to die.

 

“Eh, beats slinging pel-joopas” He answers. Zeb quirks his eyebrow at that one. That was the original trade off that brought Rex into the fold. Zeb helped them hunt down a joopa and they helped repair the phantom and get the ghost crew on their way. _Kallus… Kallus was stranded that time too._ It seems that they’ve always been in the same place at the same time fighting for opposite sides. Except for once. He wonders idly if the bonzami they fought off in the cave together were edible.  

 

“Does it? They sure do taste good.” Zeb chirps back through the comm. Thinking about food only makes the bile he is trying to swallow back down seem more bitter.

 

“Ah they do, don’t they.” Rex agrees.  Zeb barely hears him over the sound of the ghost’s engine starting up.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They are in the thick of it and everyone is calling for help.

 

“Too many ships to protect!” Zeb shouts. There is no way they can save every one this time. Zeb doesn’t have time to wish but he wishes anyway for more time for the people who are dying in droves around him while he chips away with this toothpick of a gun at the ice closing in. His hands are icy even though he can feel his palms sweating against the control grips. The battle sounds seem far away but he keeps firing.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything is falling apart. Thrawn lays siege to Attolon and Kallus can only watch. He feels sick and the hard frigid deck plates against his knees make his legs go numb. An improvement actually. His ribs burn with every full breath he takes but the pain makes him concentrate on the here, the now. Instead of worrying helplessly over what might become of the rebels.

Zeb is out there. Amongst hundreds of dog fights hopelessly out gunned. But still they fight. They fight though Thrawn only plays with them.

The death troopers guarding him push him down if he tries to straighten his back or look up.  Kallus can hear the battle but not see it. He doesn’t need to, the only option for the rebels now is a desperate attempt at escape. There is a large flash of light to his left and Kallus can’t help but think, _Zeb is out there._ For the first time since Bahryn he feels himself shaking and he cannot make it stop.

Thrawn hails Admiral Konstantine and Kallus catches enough of the transmission to recognize their petty bickering. Not long ago Konstantine was under suspicion too. People don’t respect superiors who don’t respect them. Especially, recently promoted alien superiors. Is it naive to think that he can goad Thrawn into anger? Anger breeds mistakes.

“Fighting over Glory!” Kallus accuses. A small sly smile lingers, almost imperceptible, on the corner of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s lips as he glances over his shoulder to respond.

“I do not require glory, only results for MY Emperor.”

Kallus inhales again. _That’s right, I no longer am Imperial._ And all that protection and privilege is no longer his to act on anymore. He’s seen prisoners killed for crying to loudly and he just addressed the highest ranking officer in the entire fleet. The only reason he is here is because Thrawn wishes it.

Kallus hates him. What reason does Thrawn have to bring him here other than to gloat?! This is over for him, he is being escorted around by his own executors. Why? Will he get some kind of mock trial or does Thrawn just want to study a live rebel specimen.

“I’ve had enough of your games Grand Admiral!” Konstantine’s voice rings through the battle clamor. Kallus notices that his guards have become distracted. He can just cran his neck to see out of the viewport now. One of the Interdictor cruisers has moved out of formation to intercept a carrier. It’s the same one that the ghost crew stole out of the skies of Ryloth. Suddenly, the Carrier swerves and rams the Interdictor head on. The explosion is a little too close, the Grand Admiral and Governor Pryce fight to hold their footing. Kallus forgets to squint. It’s blinding and beautiful and so much death.   _Zeb wouldn’t have been..? No, He’s on the ghost._ Which so far has been keeping a low profile in this battle.

“Sir, one rebel ship escaped the blockade.” an officer reports

“Konstantine was careless. Let’s hope he did not undermine my efforts.” Thrawn states. It’s not much of a eulogy.

And Kallus has other hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One More Chapter to go! but I plan on making a sequel to cover the last season. 
> 
> Note: Rex adds prefix onto the word Joopas in the show which I think is Pel? It's Mando'a for soft or yielding. So yeah, soft yummy Joopas. (the more I watch this scene the more it feels like a dick joke because if I remember correctly Zeb never got to eat that joopa) 
> 
> Well any way don't mind me.
> 
> Also you can find me on tumblr @brorifles


	7. Zero Hour Part 2

Kallus could almost relax. Which is odd considering that he’s in an escape pod in the middle of a raging battle. But if the ghost comes for him, then they come for him and if they don’t...Well, he can always manually unseal the escape pods hatch and space himself. But it’s more likely that a misfire will get him first.

As soon as Thrawn handed command over to Pryce he knew he could get out of there. He had laughed out loud, the rattle in his chest making him sound deranged. He was in a different reality than them. All it had taken was a single phrase and Pryce made the mistake. One mistake to make everything unravel.

He sends his coordinates and waits.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We’re receiving a transmission?!” Hera exclaims. Not now! She needs to fly.

“It’s Kallus!” Zeb shouts. _He’s alive. He escaped._ Zeb can’t bring himself to believe it. Even now, there’s no way to know if they can rescue him and make it out alive. The next few minutes pass as a blur. There’s so much noise he can barely make out Hera’s voice

“He’s sending coordinates, there’s an escape pod on my scope, Got him! Let’s go.”

_We have Kallus. Kallus is here._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He breaths a sigh of relief when the Ghost latches onto the pod. He’s closer to safety than he’s been in months. He chuckles it’s not really safe but the last time he felt safe wasn’t either. _Time to get out of this pod._ Kallus thinks before pausing. _Will Zeb be out there?_ He wants to see Zeb or Bridger even, making a little quip about how glad he is that Kallus can finally join them. He’s not that lucky.

When the pod opens there’s nothing but strangers, Rebel personnel, medical droids. And it’s all very clear that they had to move to make space for the pod. It suddenly feels gigantic. He sticks out, all in gray while the rebels are colorful, dirty, bleeding. He only wants to take up less space.

Zeb exits the cockpit, looks at him and Kallus suddenly has no idea what to say. Everything he’s ever written comes rushing up like vomit but his throat is closing and he can’t get the words out. He closes his open mouth and Zeb moves on, scratching the back of his head. And disappears into one of the cabins.

The other rebels are watching him. _They know. Why wouldn’t they._ A giant purple Lasat recruited his worst enemy. He can almost hear them. _Did you see? They’re not speaking._ The atmosphere grows hostile. There are more whispers, glances, stares.

“Kanan!” Kallus exclaims out of impulse. He needs to establish some kind of right to be here, just enough to make sure he doesn’t wake with a medical instrument at his throat if he tries to sleep. “Thank you.” He pauses while trying to find the words to clarify. “for taking me in.”

The jedi has a slight smile. He knows what’s up.

“Thank you, for risking everything.” He replies. _Well, he’s good at this_ Kallus thinks. The other’s are quickly put at ease and he is too. Kallus does a mental double take _Wait, He means it._ Kallus can tell. He eyes the hand that Jarrus places on his shoulder warily. Warning sirens are going off in his head but _no_ , _Kanan means it._ He’s safe. He’s welcome here. By everyone but Zeb. That’s it, he risked his  _everything_ just to be awkwardly silent and ignored, he has reached a higher level of hell.  

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zeb can't decide if he likes Kallus’s new look. On one hand He deserves it on the other it makes him look less imperial, more like one of their own.  Zeb would have liked to be the one to give him that black eye but they’re on the same side now. They have common enemies and Zeb can tell that Kallus is worse off than he looks. Even with a broken leg in sub-zero temperatures Kallus hadn’t been hunched over or looked quite as dejected as he did in the hall.

Zeb reaches into the drawer under his bunk and pulls out some spare medical supplies. Ezra has always been good at avoiding going to medical. Zeb can’t count the number of times the kid has sprained or bruised something without telling anyone, only to have it keep him up, whimpering in the night. As a result Zeb has a lot of things he can’t even use through his fur, Topicals and patches, as well as medications with small enough dosages that it wouldn’t even make a difference to him.

He’s going to get Kallus, bring him in here, and fix him up, he resolves. He doesn’t know if he truly wants to but he does know that he doesn’t get off on seeing other people in pain. He’ll allow himself that much. Zeb is still a person not just a means to revenge. He steels himself before stepping halfway out into the hall. Its cramped, it smells like blood and too many strange people.

“Kallus! get in here.” He shouts. He’s off to a great start with his politeness.

The body pressed into the far corner of the hall unravels anyway. Kallus’s far too wide honey brown eyes are looking at him. This time Zeb is dealing with the real thing, not just his imagination, not just a ghost. He turns and heads back inside, nervously re-arranging  his supplies. Kallus’s frame darkens the door a little as he approaches.

“Figured we’d get you fixed up.” Zeb says without turning around.

“There are others who need this stuff more than me.” Kallus argues. Zeb turns around and gives Kallus a firm push, his hand connects with cold chest armor. Kallus stumbles back a bit and sputters, at a loss.

“Don’t pretend you’re not about to fall over.” Zeb says roughly “We’ll use what we need and then give the rest to the others.” Kallus eyes him warily from where he’s settled leaning heavily against the shelf where Ezra’s helmets rest. _I could have done without pushing him._ Zeb thinks belatedly.

“Here” He grudgingly offers holding out a hand. “Sit down.”

Kallus gulps but takes his hand with one of his own and grabs Zeb’s forearm with the other to steady himself. Carefully Zeb lowers him down to the bunk.

Kallus leans forward on placing his elbow on his knees in order to get some of the pressure off of his bruised torso. He vaguely realizes that he’s inadvertently taken a fetal position while Zeb de-magnetizes the clasps of his armor.

“Sit up for a second” Zeb demands. He pulls the armor over Kallus’s head and unfastens the uniform jacket beneath. “Lie back.” He adds after Kallus shrugs the jacket off. Kallus is unsure. He’s nearly half naked with his former worst enemy telling him to expose the soft and injured parts of his body. But it doesn’t feel like a trap. “The sooner we get this ice on the better you’ll feel.” Zeb adds, shaking one of the chemical packs from his stash. A firm hand on his shoulder makes Kallus go easily down against the soft mattress.

The cold from the chem packs placed against his undershirt do feel good and Zeb obviously does just mean to help him. Kallus takes a moment to look at his surroundings. There are posters, paintings and scratch marks? On the walls. Parts of the bunk he is lying in are shredded the loose threats tickle the back of his neck. He’s pretty sure that he’s safe…

Zeb hands him a chemical pack for his eye and Kallus reaches up to try to straighten his hair before applying it. He sees Zeb smirk.

“What?” Kallus asks, maybe he’s been too trusting. Zeb has knelt between his legs, is pulling at his boots. Kallus has left himself entirely open, exposed.

“You don’t like being a mess.” Zeb explains.

“Being neat is funny to you?”

“It’s funny that you’re still trying.” Zeb clarifies with a shake of his head “Same leg?” He questions.

“Yes”

“You never got it looked at?”

“How could I? I wouldn’t have been able to explain away how I got out of that pit.”

Zeb hums. He doesn’t want to think about the moon. He has to concentrate. Kallus isn’t good for his concentration but what should he have expected? The warm body that’s been haunting his dreams is in his bed. Kallus’s arms limbs are thinner but more hairy than Zeb expected and human skin is thin. He can see some of the veins in Kallus’s wrists, bruises smattered across his shoulders, and the pink tinge of blood rushing to his neck and face. _Embarrassment?_

In his absent mindedness Zeb has let his hand stray up past Kallus’s knee on he bad leg and He’s staring. All the while Kallus is looking away using the cold pack to shield half of his face while coyly playing with loose threads from the shreded bunk. Two thoughts run through Zeb’s head:

 _Ashla, If he knew why I did that…_ and _he’s even worse than Ezra when it comes to voicing discomfort._

“Sorry.” Zeb mumbles as he jerks suddenly to the right to grab a bacta patch.

“What?... Owww!” Kallus jerks up. Zeb accidentally elbowed him.

“Sorry!” Zeb tries again. He sits back on the floor and struggles to get the patch open.

“Here, I can do it.” Kallus offers and Zeb relinquishes the package. Kallus’s long thin fingers are bruised too. Zeb is staring at them. This time Kallus doesn’t look away. “I..” he begins, “You…” He exhales sharply. The bacta patch is still not cooperating and neither are his words. He had so many of them not long ago. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t even start.” Zeb warns. He snatches the Bacta patch back and rips it open with his teeth. It’s threatening he supposes, but not really because Zeb is now struggling with the stray packaging stuck in his teeth. This time Kallus laughs. It’s just like when He was nearly shoved over by a box of bandages on Bahryn.

Zeb glares at him and slaps the patch on with a more force and necessary. Kallus winces through his snicker and coughs. He can’t breath until he lays back down on the bunk and even then there is a distinct rattle. Zeb’s ears are tilted forward, concerned.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”  He says once he finally catches his breath. Zeb pulls himself up into the space next to Kallus. “I know what I’ve done isn’t, can never be enough. But I want you to know that I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Kallus only has his personal gratitude to offer he has to try.

“For force’ sake, I said: Stop.” Zeb is hunched over making and unmaking fists. He can’t sit here listening to the man he wants to kill, wants to fuck. “It was an accident.” He says vaguely. Kallus’s brows come together in confusion. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to recruit you.” _But I did and I’ve thought of you every day since._

Kallus gulps. His world is falling out from under him. It all was a miscommunication. Zeb didn’t want to care about him. Why would he? Kallus was forcing himself on him by even being here. At best he was a mediocre spy at worst he was responsible for the attack on Atolon, even his acts of rebellion are not good enough.

“I thought… I thought about you.” Zeb admits. “ I thought maybe if I tried I could do this.”

The letters, Kallus wishes he had them now, wishes he had found a way to send them.

“I should just leave.” Kallus gives up. He stands trying to put as much weight as possible on his good leg. Zeb reaches forward to steady him. It’s too quick and Kallus is still too on edge. He half falls half pushes away and manages to knock the back of his head against the bunk while he’s at it.

“I...I...” Zeb stutters. _What was I doing? Trying to help? Trying to stop him from leaving?_

“Kriff.” Kallus curses while rubbing the back of his head. Zeb chuckles. Kallus looks at him hard, his eyes are both furious and questioning. If Zeb likes laughing at his pain then this must be a good day for him. Zeb catches on.

“No” he shakes his head “I’ve never heard you curse before.” Kallus rolls his eyes and lets Zeb help him up this time.

Gripping each other by the forearms they both become cautiously aware that they are only two people. Whatever they had before this is over and there is only the now and the future. How they reconcile their past will not be said once and done It’s something they’ll struggle at for the rest of their lives. Zeb wants to push Kallus back onto the bunk and kiss him breathless in every sense of the word. He can’t do it. He has to move before he does something he will regret.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Zeb says. He sweeps Kallus’s legs out from under him with his foot, grabs him by the undershirt and hoists him up into Ezra’s bunk. “The kid’s not here so you get a bed.” Zeb explains. Kallus looks shocked again but there’s a lot less fire in his eyes. The prospect of sleep seems to have mellowed him out.

Kallus rolls over onto his back and Zeb sits down below. What had he expected? A thank you? When he was so obviously torn about whether or not he wanted to make nice with Kallus? Zeb breaths deeply and exhales while playing with the wraps of his bow-rifle.

 _Kallus is responsible for his own actions and his own conscience._ Zeb isn’t going to validate or assuage any questions he has. But Kallus is also his recruit. He won’t talk about lassan. They are only here to do what they have to do in the now. Zeb reconfigures his rifle so he can continue cleaning and the sound makes Kallus stir in the bunk above.

“I left mine.” Kallus’s voice sounds small. _That’s it._ Zeb’s decided. Kallus has to earn his place on the ghost just like all the rest of them. He can stay in the bunk for the night, but only because Zeb has already put him there.

“No time to pack your war trophies, huh?” Zeb asks trying to make his tone a patronizing as possible. “You’re lucky we didn’t leave you.” Kallus’s gulp is audible. He hadn’t realized that he would be coming into this situation on such thin ice.

“No, I left it on Bahryn” He clarifies. Zeb’s hair bristles. And he goes back to cleaning his rifle with new found urgency. He needs to concentrate. He doesn’t want to hear but he also has to know.

“Why’d you go and do a stupid thing like that.” He accuses more than questions. When Kallus is silent he adds. “Next your going to tell me you kept that ugly rock.” more silence rustling as Kallus moves to face the bulkhead. Zeb slowly adjusts to the idea. “You kept the rock.” He says in disbelief. _What we did...just surviving together was that important to him?_  He stops working. “You kept the rock and left your bo-rifle. Why?” Zeb’s trying but he knows he still sounds spiteful.

“You know why!” Kallus snaps. _Why is he trying to make me regret this?_

Zeb stands up and sets his rifle aside. Kallus can feel his gaze prickling on the back of his neck.  Zeb reaches out and Kallus instinctively curls in on himself again. This time Zeb grabs a blanket out of the overhead compartment drapes it over Kallus and smooths it over his shoulder. Zeb’s hand is warm and lingers slightly too long. But not long enough, soon he pulls away and turns to exit the room. Light from the main hall bounces in and casts Zeb’s silhouette where Kallus can see it. Zeb grips the door frame, turns, and looks back at him.  

“Kallus… I am glad, that you survived.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a sequel once season four airs! 
> 
> Until then, You can find me on tumblr @brorifles.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @brorifles


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